


The Mists of Memory

by SonjaJade



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hate Crimes, Photographs, Reminiscing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-11 18:59:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10471857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonjaJade/pseuds/SonjaJade
Summary: Sometimes he just likes to remind himself of their faces.





	

It’s not a very big picture, and there are only three people that even know it exists (himself, his loyal Lieutenant, and his aunt), but it’s there with him always.  It’s in a special spot in his wallet, behind his identification card and on top of his shot record.  And when he’s feeling low (like today), he pulls it out and gazes lovingly at two faces he can barely recall from the mists of memory.  
   
His mother is dressed in her Xingese wedding robes and her hair is piled on top of her head in an intricate style that he’s never seen on anyone else.  The robes look luxuriant, or so he likes to tell himself.  There are cracks in the photo paper and it’s hard to actually see the pattern on the outer gown, but he knows from previous viewings and stories from his aunt that it was a vivid bright red with gold cranes and good luck symbols embroidered into it.  The silk shoes have her feet bound up into tiny little stubs, but she doesn’t look pained.  She’s wearing the most beautiful smile, and her body language tells anyone who sees the photo that she’s very much in love with the decorated Cavalryman beside her.  
   
The weak jaw line that he shares with his father is plain to see.  The man in the photograph is wearing his dress uniform and sitting as stiffly as a corpse.  He wears no smile, but there’s a glint in his eyes that Roy likens to someone trying to keep a straight face after hearing a funny joke.  Those mischievous eyes are another trait they share, although the color and shape favor that of his mother.  Roy takes a moment to scrutinize his father’s hands.  They look strong, rough… certainly not like murder weapons as his own are.  
   
He sighs, the memories of the night they were killed surfacing briefly.  It had been a hate crime, and luckily he’d missed the last carriage out of town and was forced to walk home, otherwise he would’ve been killed too; the offspring of a Xinkie lover and his whore concubine.  
   
There was a gentle rap at the door, and he hurriedly put the picture away and slid his wallet back into his pocket.  “Come in.”  
   
It was his lovely Lieutenant, who he imagined in Xingese wedding robes for a moment.  He wondered if her hair was long enough for the style his mother wore in the photo, and what it would look like with blonde hair instead of jet black.  The vision was broken when she saddled him with more paperwork.  Their eyes met, and as always he knew she could read him as if he’d told her out loud what he’d been doing when she walked in.  
   
“Sorry to add to your pile, sir.”  
   
“It’s alright, Lieutenant.  What must be done, must be done,” he complained as he pulled his pen from the desk set.  
   
She gave him a soft look and asked, “Can I make you a drink, sir?”  
   
God, he loved this woman.  He smiled weakly at her and said, “Yes, please.”


End file.
